


A Matter of Trust and Respect

by anubislover



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Distrust, F/M, Masyaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: Maria has not been given much respect since arriving in Masyaf, so she demands a mission from Malik. Altair is worried for his wife, while the one-armed Dai is exasperated by their leader's behavior. But as he learns more about the things their brothers have said about the former Templar, he comes to realize that trust and respect are not as easily given as one might expect.





	A Matter of Trust and Respect

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one-shot that popped into my head. I'd love to have seen Maria's early days in Masyaf, and what it might take to get the Brotherhood to trust her. Especially Malik, considering how he has more reason to hate Templars than most.

The sun was only just beginning to dip beyond the horizon, the view from Masyaf’s central tower nothing short of spectacular. However, the two men in the Master’s study took little note of its beauty; Altair was too busy wearing a hole in the carpet with his restless pacing, and Malik was attempting to get as much work done by the light of the setting sun before he’d be forced to pause to light the candles.

Unfortunately for the one-armed Dai, his companion’s melancholic vigil was most distracting, and with an irritable huff, he set down his quill. He’d get no work done as long as the Leader of the Assassin Brotherhood was acting like a worried mother.

“Stop pacing, Novice. I’m sure your woman will be back any day now.”

Altair stubbornly ignored the request, if anything stomping his feet a little harder out of petty anger. “Why should I not worry, Malik? It’s been two months, and there’s been no word from Maria. The Rafiq of the city told us that Alhazrad is dead, but if that’s the case, why isn’t she home yet? This mission should only have taken one month, at most. I should have gone with her.”

“If you had gone with her, any chance she’d have of getting close to her target would have been lost due to your jealousy.”

“Well excuse me for not appreciating you _whoring out my wife_!” he snarled, whirling around to glare at his best friend.

Mouth twisting with disdain, Malik pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for strength, even if he didn’t truly believe any god would answer. “She asked for the mission. Nay, demanded it. What was I supposed to do, allow our best chance of dealing with Alhazrad to slip through our fingers?”

Despite his dislike for the Master Assassin’s wife, Malik had to admit she was a blessing in disguise, at least in this case. Alhazrad was the ruler of a city who was rumored to be involved in illicit activities and possibly acting as a spy for the Templars. Though the Order had been quiet since sailing off with their Archive, the Assassins were determined to remain vigilant. So any rumor was investigated, and even if the Templar’s were not involved, any crimes or injustice was stamped out where it was found to ensure the land’s safety.

The problem was that Alhazrad was a paranoid man, and employed only those of European features as servants and guards. In his mind, the Assassins too easily blended in with the locals or might recruit them as spies, so he refused to allow anyone with skin darker than his own into his palace.

That left Maria Thorpe as the only possible option to investigate. Her mission was to infiltrate the palace to discover if any of the dark rumors were true. If they were, she was to assassinate him and return to Masyaf immediately.

Altair had accepted the logic of sending her, even seeming proud that his wife was being sent on a mission that none of the men could accomplish. It wasn’t until a week after she’d left that some fool had accidentally revealed that she was disguising herself as a courtesan to get in. It had taken ten men to keep their leader from charging after her.

Since then, Altair had fretted and sulked, his temper being set off over the smallest thing.

Really, this argument was inevitable. The only surprise was how long it had taken for him to snap.

“If she’s half as capable as you claim she is, you have nothing to worry about,” Malik argued. “This is her chance to prove herself. The few missions she’s gone on have been minor because only you and Rauf are willing to work with her, and we can’t spare either of you for long. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but the men have been uneasy with her presence.”

“Uneasy? Do not mince words, brother. Since she’s gotten here, she’s been treated as a pariah, not with the respect my wife—nay, a warrior of her caliber—deserves.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” he replied, tensing. Though his friend had grown out of the arrogance and quick temper of his youth, he was still not a man who ignored blatant disrespect, especially to those he cared about. After all, when he’d heard some of their brothers questioning the one-armed Dai’s abilities, Altair had wasted no time setting them straight, defending his friend and putting the fools on stable duty for a month. Because of this, Malik, like most of the men, had merely assumed that their leader had been too busy to notice his wife’s less-than-stellar treatment.

Apparently, despite the mountains of paperwork, long meetings with Rafiqs, training of novices, and rewriting of many of the Brotherhood’s key beliefs, their behavior had not escaped his sharp, golden eyes.

“Do not mistake my silence for ignorance!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the desk, nearly toppling the full bottle of ink across the documents Malik had spent hours transcribing. “You think I don’t know what our brothers say about her? How they think she is nothing but a Templar harlot? The only reason I have not slain every man who has disrespected her is that I know she would rather fight her own battles!”

 _And probably because we’d have significantly fewer men to send out missions,_ Malik thought, but wisely kept to himself. “None of them meant to disrespect you, Altair—”

“They disrespect my wife, Malik! How am I not to take it personally?” He continued pacing, this time with a scowl so deep it threatened to permanently distort his face. “When the whispers first started, I saw fit to ignore them. I did not begrudge our brothers their mistrust; Maria had been a Templar, our enemy, and it would take time for them to accept her. But it has been over half a year since she came through the gates, and if anything, it’s only gotten worse.” Every muscle in his body was tense as he returned to his desk, stiffly sitting in his chair across from Malik. “They think they’re being shrewd, but I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve forgotten how to be subtle. I hear them; in the baths, the taverns, calling her a spy and a Templar harlot. I know that it is no accident when she’s injured in the sparring ring, just as it was no accident when her sword was found in the well.”

Malik flinched as he recalled that particular incident. The blacksmith had offered to sharpen her prized blade for her, and she’d accepted his kind gesture. However, the next morning the broadsword was discovered precariously caught between two ragged stones near the bottom of the courtyard’s well. Despite the men’s protests, Altair himself had insisted on climbing down to retrieve it. The blacksmith had insisted he’d never even brought the blade close to the well, and Maria had merely waved it off, saying that it was clearly just bad luck that it had ended up there, and she was grateful to have it back.

Clenching his fists, Altair continued, voice strained as he suppressed his rage. “The novices are the least subtle of the bunch. Do you know what one recruit asked me the other day, Malik? He had the gall to ask if Maria was my trophy from when I killed de Sable! As if she were not my wife or even a person, but the spoils of war, fit only to warm a man’s bed.”

Malik’sface twisted in a grimace. No wonder Altair was in such a mood. He had no love for the woman, but even he admitted such an accusation was repulsive. Weren’t they supposed to be better than the drunken sailors in Cyprus that speculated how many coins it would take for a woman to spread her legs?

Perhaps the lack of respect for the Englishwoman had gone too far. At this rate, their leader really would kill someone.

“The worst part is that they learn this from their teachers. Abbas, in particular, doesn’t bother to hide his hatred, calling her ‘the tits that bewitched the great Altair.’ He’s lucky I didn’t put my blade through his throat.” Forcing his gaze away from the hole he was attempted to burn into the polished wood of the desk, eagle-like eyes glared at his second-in-command. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed your disrespect towards her, either. You mock her with the others, then send her on this utterly degrading mission!”

Malik glared back at him. “She demanded a mission that would prove to the men that she deserves a place among our ranks. And with Alhazrad’s not unjustified paranoia of us infiltrating his household, she was literally the only one who could have done it.”

“So you send my wife to seduce him?”

“I sent a woman who was willing to do what it took to eliminate her target!” he argued, exasperated. “If you have such faith in her skills, you should have no fear for her safety.”

Unclenching his hands, he instead gripped the arms of his chair in an attempt to maintain his control. “When I asked her to come to Masyaf with me, to be my wife and live among the people she had once called enemies, I promised her that she would be safe. That, in time, the Brotherhood would accept her, respect her as the proud warrior she is. Instead, I see her degraded at every turn. Had I known how wrong I was of our brothers' honor, I’d have stayed in India.”

Banging his own fist on the desk in frustration, Malik snarled, “This is why none of us trust her, Altair! Think of how recent events have looked to us; you kill our former master, taking his position of leadership, only to disappear for two years, leaving us scrambling to maintain order. Then, when you _do_ return, Robert de Sable’s lover is at your side, apparently your wife.” Dark eyes burned with anger, white teeth bared like a wounded jackal. “Have you forgotten her former lover was the one who killed Kadar?”

Altair’s anger cooled, but did not disappear completely. It was enough to allow the tension in his muscles to ease slightly and to release his white-knuckled grip on his chair. “Of course not. But she wasn’t even at Solomon’s Temple. Nor did she truly believe their cause; she was loyal to de Sable, not the Templar Order. He was the only man among them who saw her as a warrior first, not a woman.”

“So she blindly follows the man she’s fucking without caring for his beliefs? That’s so much more reassuring,” he replied, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“She’s far from blind to the faults of myself or the Brotherhood,” Altair countered. “She’s questioned our methods many times throughout our journey. It’s what made me reconsider many of our beliefs, what made me begin writing the codex. If I couldn’t justify our actions to her, how could I impose them on our troops? If anything, she’s the reason we’re not mindlessly following Al Mualim’s old rules.”

Taking a deep breath, Malik too calmed down. “Trust is still a long way off, brother.”

“I know,” he replied, sadness lacing his voice. “Of both Maria, and myself. I did not mean to leave the Brotherhood in such disarray, but I had no faith in my ability to lead. I needed time to learn, to rid myself of our master’s teachings, lest I find myself falling into the same darkness out of desperation. Maria presented me that opportunity, that chance to heal and figure out the best way to lead.”

Sighing, the Dai had to admit his reasoning wasn’t exactly without merit. They’d both been thrust into leadership positions unexpectedly, and had been left to handle the strain in different ways; Altair by running off on a journey of self-discovery, Malik by throwing himself into keeping the Brotherhood from imploding. When they’d been reunited, it had been all smiles and their typical biting banter, but now he was wondering if, like the rest of the men, he had been just as hurt by Altair’s apparent abandonment and was taking it out on Maria.

Cautiously, he said, “I’ll admit, she’s done well holding her own here. Despite our…less than welcoming behavior, she’s kept her head held high, refusing to cower behind you and accepting every challenge that comes her way. She’s quite the fighter, even if her behavior is unsuitable of a woman.”

That earned a small, affectionate smile from the Master Assassin. “She’s never backed away from a fight. It got us in trouble a few times during our journey, but I suppose it’s just one of the things I love about her.”

“Your children are going to be hellions,” he chuckled.

“I expect so. Luckily they’ll have their Uncle Malik to teach them restraint.”

The admission warmed his heart a bit, as their relationship had never been one where they spoke of children or love. Perhaps those two years apart had been good for them both; it gave their old rivalry time to cool, to become new men while not fighting for the spotlight.

Maria, too, might have had something to do with this new side of Altair. He vaguely recalled his fellow assassin once being smitten with a woman named Adha, the Chalice who had been slain by her Templar captors. After that, the already arrogant Altair had become harsher, more critical of the Creed, his inability to save her cutting deep.

Perhaps that was why he was so protective of his wife. He’d been unable to protect his first love, leaving him unable to open his heart again for a long time. Once Maria had come along, forced him to again feel something for a woman beyond physical desire, that old hurt and fear was once again a lingering shadow, a whisper in the back of his mind.

Yet Malik now doubted he had much to worry about. Maria was not like Adha; she was strong, capable of holding her own in a fight, unlikely to die or be captured so easily. Yes, dressing her a courtesan brought a greater risk than if she’d been a servant, but it was the only guaranteed way of her getting close enough to take Alhazrad out. Besides, he was now certain that if the man ever did try to take advantage of her, he’d end up with a broken arm for his troubles.

The woman was a fierce one, and Altair clearly married her for a reason. She was earning her place in Masyaf and should be given the respect she deserved, not just as the Mentor’s wife, but as a fellow warrior. When Maria returned, he made a promise to lead by example; to admonish any he found insulting her and encourage trust among the men.

There was a rapid knock on the door, and Altair called for them to enter. A fresh-faced recruit stumbled in, panting, eyes wide with amazement.

“What is it, novice?” the Mentor asked, cocking an eyebrow at the boy’s sudden arrival.

“Apologies for disturbing you, Master, but your wife has returned.”

He shot up from his chair, Malik too rising to his feet.

“Is she hurt?”

“Was she successful?”

The two men spoke over each other, and it took a moment for the trainee to decipher the questions, then figure out which one to answer first. “I did not see any injuries, Master. But she was holding a feather.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was knocked onto his ass, thrown off-balance by Altair’s rush to see his wife. Shaking his head at the boy’s clumsiness, Malik followed, making another mental note to have Rauf increase their training. If the rest of the recruits were knocked so easily to the ground, what hope did they have in a fight?

He got to the courtyard only a few seconds behind Altair, arriving just in time to see his brother embrace the dark-haired Englishwoman.

A few of the other men watched the event, many scandalized at their leader showing such blatant affection to the foreign soldier. Abbas wore a sneer of disdain, murmuring to one of his brothers what a disgrace it was to see the great Altair acting like a weeping woman.

Though he could hear the whispers around them, Altair couldn’t bring himself to care, content to bury his face into her neck, pulling her as tightly as he could against him.

“Maria,” he whispered reverently against her skin, almost like a prayer.

She chuckled, stroking his head soothingly. “You’re acting like a woman. Did you have that little faith in me?”

“My faith in you is unending, but that doesn’t mean I’m not relieved to see you’ve returned safely.”

“Perhaps, but I think your foolishness is encouraging your men’s belief that I’m actually a witch who’s ensnared the mind of their leader.”

His arms squeezed her tighter, his eyes darkening. “I won’t stand idly by and let them continue to disrespect you, Maria.”

“Why do you think I took this mission? Respect is earned, my love, not given.”

He pulled away, eyes sharp with anger. “You have nothing to prove to them.”

She met his gaze with hard resolve. “No, I have everything to prove to them. I accepted the mission so that they could see that I am no trophy, but a formidable warrior worthy of their respect. I did it for their sakes.”

“Theirs?”

A mischievous smirk twisted her lips, and Altair felt a hot spear of lust pierce him. “I thought they might prefer me displaying my skills on the enemy, instead of by beating each and every one of them black and blue in the sparring ring.”

Chuckling, he brushed his lips against hers. “Fair enough. But the next man who claims you’re nothing but my concubine answers to me.”

“Fine. But I won’t have you picking fights with every man who insults me. I prefer to fight my own battles.”

“Speaking of fighting your own battles,” Malik interrupted, approaching the couple. “What news do you have of Alhazrad?”

The pride that glimmered in her eyes, Malik had to admit, was incredibly attractive as she handed him the bloody feather. The blood was clearly old, having darkened to a rust red on the white down. “The rumors that he was involved in kidnapping and slave trading were true, though I found no evidence of ties to the Templars. I eliminated him as ordered, then set about procuring ships to return the displaced slaves to their homes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were ordered to return to Masyaf once the target was eliminated.”

She shrugged. “True, but our goal is to protect the people’s freedom, yes? Ensuring the remaining slaves were not trapped in a strange city, left to become beggars or prey to another slaver seemed more prudent.”

“All for the minor risk of compromising the Brotherhood,” Abbas cut in, stepping forward. “Your actions could have attracted our enemy’s attention, leading them here. Or she could be covering for her Templar brothers, having spent the time spilling every one of Masyaf’s secrets! What proof do we have that she hasn’t betrayed us?”

Altair glared at him, immediately coming to his wife’s defense. “If you do not believe her, then write to our informants. Had they noticed anything untoward, they would have notified us immediately.”

“How do we know she didn’t have them all executed by her brethren?” Abbas shot back. “Had she really completed the mission, surely the Rafiq of the city would have informed us of her success and what she was doing.”

Exasperated, Maria shook her head. “I tried to inform him, but he was a surly bastard who refused to accept that I was in any way connected to the Brotherhood. In fact, he sent a couple of his informants after me, holding your same idiotic belief that I was a spy.”

Malik frowned. “Did you kill them?” Good informants were hard to find, and her killing them would not do much to persuade the men of her innocence.

“I beat them soundly, but sent them home alive, albeit with their tails tucked between their legs. Upon realizing I was no spy, several of them helped me locate the slaves that had been sold and free them. I’m sure they told the Rafiq what I was doing, but if he found it of no interest, that’s far from my fault.”

“Of course he wouldn’t take the word of a Templar whore,” Abbas sneered. “I say we lock her in the dungeons until we’re sure she hasn't led her fellow crusaders to our gates."

Altair immediately moved to strike his former friend, rage simmering in his gaze at the insult, and the air was thick with tension as the men prepared for a fight.

However, Malik stepped between them, preventing things from going further. “Abbas, I’ve no time to waste with petty accusations,” the Dai said, dark eyes narrowed. The men swiftly snapped to attention at his tone, aware that their second-in-command’s patience was wearing thin. “Maria completed the mission, and while she disobeyed orders, she broke no rules of the Creed. In fact, she did quite the opposite; she protected the innocent, remained hidden despite staying in the city for over a month, and was so effective that the Rafiq did not even bother informing us of her actions. The Brotherhood has not been compromised from what I can see, and if you’re still not convinced of Maria’s story, I will assign you a mission to visit the city yourself. With Rauf, of course,” he said with a sarcastic smile. “After all, it’s better to have many witnesses, to avoid accounts being blinded by preconceived notions.”

The unspoken accusation that Abbas would falsify evidence if sent alone escaped no one, and with a snarl, the man in question stormed away, muttering under his breath about how she must have been fucking Malik on the side to get his approval. Despite the anger it caused him, Malik made no move to address it; he’d set up a more fitting punishment later.

From the corner of his eye, Malik saw Altair give him a small, grateful smile. If was one thing for the men to hear their leader defend Maria; she was his wife, after all, and the heart can easily blind one to their beloved’s faults. But if Malik, a man who had shown disdain for her in the past, was backing her up, then proclamations of her innocence would be easier to swallow.

Realizing the show was over, the rest of the men slowly dispersed, though Altair was pleased to see a few of them at last look at his wife with a hint of respect. Perhaps her stunt had gained her some approval among the Brotherhood, even if it had worried him sick.

Turning back to the couple, Malik took the bloodstained feather. “You’ve done well, Maria. You should get some rest. I’m sure your husband is eager to see for himself that you are unharmed,” he teased.

Though the Dai's light tone was surprising, her lips quirked upwards in a smirk. “I’m sure he would, but if you need a more thorough debriefing of the mission…”

He held up his hand. “Tomorrow, after you’ve rested. What concerns me more is reigning in your husband. He’s been nothing short of a nuisance, and if I keep you any longer I’m sure he’ll do nothing but hover over you.”

Altair glared at him, even as he pulled Maria against his chest. “You should show more respect.”

“I am, to one who has earned it. I’d forgotten what a pain you were before you got married. If Maria is what keeps you in check, she deserves all the respect in the world.” He gave her a nod. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, Maria.”

As he turned to walk away, he heard her chuckle under her breath at her husband’s sour expression. “Come along, mother hen,” she murmured, tugging at the Grandmaster’s robes. “It’s been two long months, and we’ve much time to make up for.”

He smiled, though a touch of concern clouded his expression. “Did he touch you?”

Malik suddenly felt a heavy stone of guilt drop into his stomach. Had he needlessly put Altair’s wife in danger? She was a beautiful woman; perhaps Alhazrad had taken advantage of her, and she’d been forced to endure for the sake of the mission. Was that extra month freeing slaves also the time she’d needed to cope? Strong as she was, he’d heard that rape could be traumatic to even the hardest of women. He should never have sent her as a courtesan; he wouldn’t do that to his own wife, if he had one, so what made it okay to order it of Maria?

Thankfully, she laughed in response. “Alhazrad? No. He attempted to, but I broke his arm before killing him.” She gave her husband a teasing peck on the lips. “As if I’d allow any man but you to even consider touching me.”

Conscience clear and a chuckle on his lips, Malik strolled into the castle, pleased that he’d been proven wrong about the woman. It would take time, and not everyone would accept her, but Maria was slowly earning her place in Masyaf.

It might be a while before he sent her on another mission, though. Dealing with a worried Altair during her absence was too much of a hassle.


End file.
